


New World

by pumakittycat



Series: put the puzzle back together, see what i'm dreaming [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Minecraft Diaries (Rewrite) - Aphmau, Minecraft Diaries - Aphmau - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Genderbending, Trans Character, Violence, i don't think it's all that bad (there are no actual serious effects of it) but it's there, safe is better than sorry when it comes to avoiding stereotypes imo, talk of death and murder, technically in the au the genders are changed from the original but that's not genderbending, that's abt one character i flipped the gender on bc, uh.... several
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 03:21:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19417450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumakittycat/pseuds/pumakittycat
Summary: A BMC AU based off of episode one of Aphmau's Minecraft Diaries Rewrite. Your guess as to whether or not this will ever finish is as good as mine.





	1. An Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> please view the series page for overall notes.
> 
> also, i'm sorry that the majority in this(/the start of things) is white (and that the star poc is wearing a mask). i didn't think abt the distribution till i'd finished assigning roles, and am now trying to remedy that post-humously.

Rich got a stick from this guy, who told him to "put this somewhere that needs help." Well, it was more of a staff than a stick. And it was clearly super magical, so Rich figured it would do some big fancy schmancy magic and help the land, or spread a little clarity, or something.

So he went, and he found the village his second-eldest half-brother, or rather, the eldest half-brother of hi's that anyone cared about (though, "eldest" didn't mean much when they're all within a year of each other, except for the one who's only related to Rich, and the other two were twins anyway), was rumored to have run off to. And he stuck the staff in the ground and snuck behind a tree.

To be honest, Rich wasn't a hundred percent sure _what_ he was expecting, but the staff failed whatever he thought it would do. No, the staff started glowing... and then it transformed.

Into a person.

They were masculine, with brown hair, pale skin, and symmetrical markings on their arms, face, and legs. They were barely wearing anything, just underwear and thick-frame glasses, and Rich thought he could make out two scars on their chest. The fanciest thing about them was the matching golden bracelets on their wrists. They were asleep, utterly collapsed, but Rich had no clue what sort of ordeal they could've been through.

Rich didn't think that was supposed to happen. Rich _hoped_ that wasn't what was supposed to happen. Healing a place was a hefty job to put on one person. Especially one who looked so... helpless. He was tempted to approach the person, to make sure they weren't dead. Maybe he could've helped them heal Phoenix Drop.

But then he heard a voice, which he thought was a guard's, calling out. So he ran.

(He missed the person waking up, if only by a few moments.)

* * *


	2. Willful Misunderstandings

The person on the ground only just managed to wake and roll over by the time a guard arrived. They tried to get a bearing on their location, maybe stand up, but pushing themselves to rest on their hands was excruciating on its own.

Everything was a blank. And someone was pointing a sword at them. They were wearing a suit of armor and a green cape, with the helmet only leaving their eyes to be seen through a slit. A guard, perhaps ? Okay. They remembered what guards were, then.

This guard was ranting. "...So you're playing the poor vulnerable, defenseless boy, aren't you? Well, you can't fool me! I know the moment I turn my back you'll have a knife to it." The person on the ground blinked once, twice, incredulous. They could barely keep supporting themselves with their arms.

Just as their arms gave out and they faded back out, they heard the guard begin to declare having defeated them... which was true, technically. Not that there was much to defeat.

A new guard arrived almost immediately after the person collapsed back to the ground. They, like the other guard, wore a full suit of armor, but their helmet shadowed their entire face, completely hiding it. A blue handkerchief was tied around their wrist, and a red cape hung off their shoulders.

The first guard smugly turned to them. "Michael, I found this man in the forest and defeated him."

Michael looked down at the person on the ground. "Defeated? Zenix, they're totally defenseless."

Zenix rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I defeated him. He attacked me— hey, what are you doing?"

He was kneeling down to the person's level. "I'm making sure they're okay. Zenix... you don't seriously expect me to believe they attacked you... right? They're barely clothed."

"Does it matter? Seriously, we should just leave him here. The village is already in chaos since our lord died, we can't just bring someone new in. People are already blaming you for killing them and their family. What if this guy _actually_ killed them?"

He paused for a moment, then glanced up at Zenix. "Give me your cape."

"What? Dude, this is fresh from Meteli—"

Michael got up and spun Zenix around. "They need it more than you. You can get another." He unlatched the cape from her armor and knelt back down.

"...But my cape— c'mon, you don't know where he's been!" Zenix watched mournfully as Michael wrapped the green fabric around the person lying on the ground. "He could be still be dangerous! It's safer to leave him out here!"

"Not for them. Maybe they are dangerous, but I'm still not letting someone else die when I can help." He picked the person up gently, pointedly not facing Zenix. "Back to the village we go."


	3. First Impressions

The person stirred to the sound of the same voice they'd awoken to before. Wherever they were now was warmer, softer, cleaner, and radically different from the forest floor. They were still tired, but less so.

"...They all died in the fire. The Lord, his family... and who do you think the villagers blame? Us. The guards. We were supposed to prevent this." The guard was facing away from them, green cape around her shoulders.

A second voice, one they'd never heard before, replied. "We weren't able to recover their bodies. It's possible they're... somewhere else." The speaker was the guard who'd arrived after they'd passed back out. A blue handkerchief was still tied around his wrist, and tentative hope was in his voice.

"But that only makes us look worse!"

"Chill out, Zenix."

"It's just... frustrating. It's unfair."

"We'll prove our innocence. We'll find the killer. They're not about to lead a witch hunt against us."

"You don't know that!" She paused for a moment, as if struck by a realisation. "Hey... what if we blamed it on _him_?" She jerked her head back towards the person on the bed.

"That's only going to make things worse."

"Not if no one finds out! We'll just say that he's the only suspect. Everything pointed to him. We confronted him, he attacked us."

"Zenix, that is the stupidest idea I have ever heard."

"Think about it! We'll be off scot-free. Besides, he's practically dead already. Look, he's not even waking up!" Zenix strolled up to the bed the person laid on, like she was about to prod at them.

"Zenix," Michael warned.

"Seriously—" Zenix was caught entirely off guard when the person rolled over and snatched the sword out of her sheath. "Oh shit, he's actually attacking us!" She backed all the way to the wall, the person on the bed glaring at her and holding the sword in a ready position. "...Wait, this means my plan is working!"

"We're not doing your stupid plan!" He paused, took a deep breath, and turned towards the person on the bed. "Sorry about her. We're not here to hurt you." He laid down his sword on the floor, and looked up at them. "See?"

The person on the bed relaxed slightly at Michael's words. They lowered their sword a bit, too.

"Where am... where am I?" Their voice was sleepy despite their attempt at a fierce expression.

"We're in the village of Phoenix Drop. You'll be safe here," Michael replied. "Do you go by he, or they, or...?"

They blinked for a moment. Paused to consider it. To decide on an answer. "...He. I'm a he. I'm a man."

"Alright. I'm Michael, the head guard around here. She's my apprentice, Zenix."

"Don't tell him our names!"

The man looked nervously between the guards and the door. He gripped the sword tighter in his left hand.

"Chill _out_ , Zenix." Michael swivelled his head, presumably to give her a look to knock it off. However, he was still wearing his helmet— any glares could not be seen.

"You just said my name again!"

The ruckus Zenix was inciting gave the man cause to attempt to leap off the bed and flee the room, but Zenix lunged forward and caught his arm mid-jump, yanking him down onto the bed. Michael grabbed her arm and pulled her away from him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he hissed. "He's scared enough already." Behind Zenix, the man stumbled back to his feet, clutching the sword tightly with both hands, and dashed out of the room and down the stairs. Zenix turned her head to watch as he left the room, attempting to tug her arm back from Michael.

"He has my sword! I can't just let him go— we have to go after him!" she insisted.

"Fine, but let _me_ do talking this time," he said, releasing her arm. She gave him a dirty look as he picked up his sword and pushed past her.

A white person with a brown-haired bob burst through the front door in the other room, waving a book in their hand. They wore a light blue coat over a floral dress.

"Michael! I found a book on the Pater by the docks and—" their voice went from an excited shout to a nervous statement as they noticed the man with a knife, who happened to be pointing the knife at their chest— ''I thought you might be interested in it..."

Michael hurried down onto the stairwell, Zenix tagging closely behind.

"I'll cut them," the man threatened, edging his way closer to the person, or, rather, closer to the door.

"See! I told you! He's the one who killed our Lord!" Zenix announced.

"I don't wanna die!" the person with the book cried.

Michael whipped his head around to face Zenix. "He didn't kill anyone! Stop accusing him!" he said, exasperated. He turned back to the man at the door. "Sir, I'm sorry about her— would you mind putting down the sword? None of us want to harm you."

The man glanced nervously at Michael, then down at the blade Michael was still wielding, then back at Michael's face. Michael took note, sheathing his sword. The man relaxed slightly. The sword he was wielding moved a hair away from the person he'd been threatening. He stared at Michael intently.

"None of us are going to harm you. I swear on my honor. Please, put down the sword." Michael moved hands out in front of him, away from the hilt of his blade.

The man dropped his arm, moving the weapon away from the person next to him without putting it down fully. He took a step away from them, and they breathed a loud sigh of relief. The man leaned towards Michael, still staring, as if he was trying to figure something out.

"You... you are familiar," he said.

"Huh?" Michael asked, staring blankly at the man. That is, as blankly as one could stare with their face obscured.

Another person barged through the door, clutching a mug, waving it around, and hollering, "Anybody want some ale?"

The man jumped at the noise. He shoved the person he'd threatened over, catching the book they dropped as they fell. They yelped.

"Madeline!" Michael cried, and the man by the door chucked the book in his hands at him, startled. The man then turned and fled out the door while Michael ducked.

The book passed through where his head had been and landed on a torch behind him. It caught fire. Madeline wailed in dismay. Michael rushed down the stairs to help her up.

"Get them sober," Michael told Zenix, jerking his thumb at the drunk person. Then he shoved the door open and ran out, after the other man.

Outside, a person was working on the dry, cracked fields. They were wearing a green shirt and had a tool in their hands. Michael paused to glance over the town quickly, spotting a couple other people chatting in the shade and the man, running a path that was about to intersect with the farmer's. He was still carrying the sword, unfortunately. Michael needed that back.

"Brendan! Stop him!" Michael yelled, picking up speed. He hoped Brendan wouldn't get hurt if he grabbed the man's arm. The man didn't seem like the type to actually stab someone—

Brendan held out the tool in his hands as the man was about to pass by. He smacked into the hoe, and crumpled to the ground. Brendan looked down at the man, and grinned to himself, like he was pleased he'd successfully stopped the man. Michael started sprinting.

The people underneath the shade noticed the commotion, and hurried over to Brendan. one was white with a magenta jacket tied around her waist. the other was a deep tan and wore a light green dress.

"Brendan! What do you think you're doing?" The person with the magenta jacket shouted. Brendan's grin faded.

"I was helping! Michael said—" Brendan started.

"They're totally defenseless! Why would you do that?" they retorted.

The other person looked down at the man. "They have a sword... they're breathing, but they're lucky they didn't fall on it," they said.

"I... but Michael..." he tried again, glancing sheepishly at Michael as he arrived for backup. Michael's focus was on the man on the ground, however. He knelt down and picked up the sword, holding it carefully while standing up.

"He's out cold... could one of you undo my cape?" he said. The person in the dress nodded while the other continued chastising Brendan. He thanked them when they handed him his cape, then he knelt again, setting the sword back down and wrapping the man up in the cape. He picked up the man carefully, and then the weapon even more so, and stood back up.

"Chloe, I think that's enough. This was my fault," Michael said. Brendan's shoulders slumped in relief as Chloe turned away from him and towards Michael.

"And you—" she began, eyes narrowed.

"Chew me out later. Can he stay with you 'till he wakes up?"

Chloe nodded. She waved to the other person and brushed past Brendan, walking to her house.

"Uh... I need to give this sword back first," Michael called out after her.

Chloe turned around, rolling her eyes. "Then go! You know where I live." She gestured in the direction of her house, shook her head, and walked off.


	4. What's in a Name

So maybe he'd threatened the local librarian, accidentally set her book on fire, and fled the building, so he should've expected resistance, but who expects to get whacked upside the head by the local farmer's hoe? But, honestly, he should've seen it coming. He was sent reeling. He was out by the time he hit the ground.

He didn't dream of much, except faces that weren't quite distinct, and voices he couldn't quite make out. As the dream began to fade, he was left grasping for the idea of who he used to be.

He was barely awake to the murmur of two voices, but he could still make out that they were arguing. Something about a Lord...? He was more focused on the sound of the voices. He could've sworn he knew them, could've placed them if they'd just kept talking and he could've just kept dreaming. But one of the voices left, and the other one told him he could wake up.

He didn't want to wake up. But when the voice told him that really, the guy's gone, he opened his eyes and looked at the voice's face.

And he had no idea who they were.

Luckily, they didn't know him, either, and introduced themself without any prompting from him. Chloe, she says, and he wished he knew why he'd felt like he'd heard it before. Maybe she was one of the people who'd watched him get whacked by the farmer?

She kept talking while he tried to work out the details he didn't have, talking about his past (that he didn't know it) and her past (that she ran away to become a merchant), leaving the past behind or seeking it out, and choosing who to be. He tuned back in fully by the time she started on asking his name. He couldn't tell her, even if it seemed so close. He just didn't know it. Chloe seemed to take this as him not liking it rather than not having it, so she set in on a tangent about choosing a name. The past was in the past. His name was his to decide.

He knew it was on the tip of his tongue, and so he mumbled "Jeremy". He wasn't sure if Chloe caught it, even, until she looked at him, pleased, and told him it was a nice name.

Jeremy thought it was nice too, and even if he didn't know if it was the name he used to have, it felt _right_.


End file.
